Breaking Up
by silversurf4
Summary: A single scene, banter with a direction. Takes place post Season 2. Crews & Reese - implied. (Something gathering dust in my closet - just a one shot thought)


**Breaking Up…**

"Do you want to talk about you and Tidwell breaking up?" Then he realized the stupidity of his question and reframed things. "I mean…. I know you don't want to talk about it, you never want to talk about it. Let's not talk about you….let's talk about me," he stumbled through his almost apology.

"Did you know I haven't been out with a girl in almost three months?"

"Guys more your thing?" she asked acerbically.

Her wry comment caught him flatfooted. He gaped.

"Equipment not working properly?" she motioned to his pants.

He scowled at her, furiously; a first for him. He didn't dignify her comments with a verbal response, but his non-verbals screamed _"watch yourself."_

She softened her sarcasm, but only slightly. "Fine," she sighed heavily, "tell me about your girl problems."

"After prison, I did pretty well. I have been pretty… active," he crowed after choosing a less vulgar word than Bobby Stark might have. "As you may have noticed I'm highly sought after."

"On account of your money?"

"Not just because of my money," he objected. He was beginning to resent taking on this topic. Maybe that was her goal, to make him stop asking, stop talking, stop wondering… about why she was no longer attached to their Captain. He breathed deeply and redoubled his effort.

"I'm considered handsome in some circles," he bragged.

She acted as though she choked on her coffee. "Which circles would that be?"

"There's no need to be mean," he argued.

"And yet…" she began. "I do it so well." A hint of a smile twisted her lips for a moment. She was having fun with this, with him.

Maybe she didn't need to talk about Tidwell after all. Maybe breaking up was her idea and she did it from a place of strength and control. This idea merited closer consideration – later. For now he was trying to keep ahead of his quick-witted partner in a contest of wills. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell," he teased.

"Ha," she scoffed. "You're no gentleman, Crews."

"That makes us even doesn't it?" he taunted darkly.

Her eyes narrowed in recognition, but she did not respond to his taunt.

"Nope," he continued undeterred. "My problem lately is the women I date aren't deep enough."

At this Dani outright laughed.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I need someone darker."

"Try across the bridge in Oakland," she offered another deftly placed barb.

His brows arched and he batted her comment aside like she'd not said it. "Some one who has walked a mile in their own personal hell. Who understands the things I know, the things I've seen."

At this Reese, paled and a glimmer of recognition crossed her face for just a moment before she buried it. Despite her better attempts to make light of things, Crews was determined to have a serious conversation about personal stuff – his / hers – it didn't much matter to him. He was going to drag them both there and make her look her demons in the face. She became noticeably mute, sullen and unresponsive.

He knew he had the upper hand now. "Someone like you – for instance," he offered. His comment was seemingly innocent and innocuous, but that she knew he was not. "How come we never dated?" he asked seriously, softening it at the end with a smile.

"Because it's against regs," she gave the easy, ready response.

"Uh," he objected quickly, "dating your Captain pretty much violates every personnel rule in the book."

"Who says I even like you?" she battled back.

"Oh," he smiled slyly. "You like me."

"I do not," she objected strenuously. Her Irish was up and her crimson anger flushed her skin.

"Reese," he toyed suggestively. "I know when a woman likes me."

"You are…" she snapped at him.

"Absolutely right," he finished.

"An ass," she offered an alternative. "A pompous ass."

"Interesting choice of words," he noted smiling. "Freud says nothing is accidental. So what you're really saying is you like my ass," he posited.

"No, I am not saying that," she growled. "I said nothing like that. I would never say that."

"But you think it….. don't you?" he leaned close and whispered the taunt.

She wanted to throttle him. She even reached for him, but he leaned away. The result was her stumbling against him. He caught her and held her for just a moment before she twisted away. She was well and truly pissed off at him now. The heat of her anger escaped in waves.

"You are a son of a bitch, Crews," she spat at him.

"That's not an insult to me. That's insulting my mother," he warned darkly. "Luckily, my mother is dead. She's not here to be offended," he turned to leave and she was immediately sorry.

She grabbed him by his arm and turned him. "Crews….I'm sorry," she apologized and she was sincere.

His closeness was his opportunity, "Tell me…do you ever think about us… kissing?" he teased. His breath was hot on her neck and it affected her profoundly. Her heart raced, her breath hitched.

"Tell me you've never thought about it," he taunted his lips brushing her cheek.

"I've thought about shooting you, but never kissing you," she lied breathlessly.

"Then you are a chicken," he teased, "and a liar. You do like me," he said softly almost to himself, but he withdrew nonetheless.

This time she didn't deny it.


End file.
